


Season of Love

by Michi27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bees, Castiel (Supernatural) and Bees, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Sam Winchester and Dogs, Sweet, Tiny bit of Angst, fluffy feels, super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/pseuds/Michi27
Summary: When he was done, he grinned, stood, and the impossible crown he had created dropped atop the dark head of Winter. He was sure they looked almost amusing, perfect and blooming on his head of black, bright and alive and nearly matching the shade of his cold eyes. But Spring stood so close to him, and when his fingers left the perfect beauty he had created, they trailed through Castiel's hair. His palm landed on Castiel's cheek. And he was looking into Castiel's eyes when he smiled and said,Perfect.And in all perfect seriousness, Winter blushed.The four Seasons are living beings named Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Castiel, or Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.They've known each other literally forever, and for just about as long, Winter has been in love with the Season Spring. But could the sprite-like creature ever return his affection?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a conversation about the weather and a personification of Winter, plus my Destiel-colored glasses ;-]  
> The AWESOME artboard was created by the incredible [RooBear1968](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooBear68) <3
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy this cute fluff :]

 

 

 

Old Man Winter wasn't really any older than the others, yet somehow he got the name and it stuck. The form he took was a bit older-looking than the other three but not vastly enough to be noteworthy. In all likelihood it had something to do with the way his shoulders slumped like a snow drift. Or how he stood as still ice and saw right through you. It could also have been the way he remained perpetually behind the times, watching the earth spinning, coming and going but paying no mind to anyone or anything other than his fellow Seasons.

In the personal opinion of Spring, it was none of these things that gave Winter his "Old Man" adjectives. Sure, the characteristics might enhance the idea, but if you asked Dean, he would have told you it was Winter's eyes.

Atmospheric in their depth of color, they were almost indescribable. Granted, all Seasons had vivid eyes, Spring a radiant emerald, Summer a burst of sunshine surrounded by a seagreen lake. Autumn an array of colors.

Still, Winter's eyes were exceptional and extraordinary. Cyaneous as the bird. Exactly the shade of snow on a perfectly clear night. As blue as ice.

And beyond that, so full of ancient knowledge, of seen things rather left unseen, of dark pasts and darker histories, of pain and suffering and mistakes made, and forgiveness, and kindness, and understanding, and all the goodness of humanity passing beneath his fingers, and more. All in his eyes.

"Old Man Winter" got his name from his eyes.

If you asked Spring anyway.

Their first names had been a part of them when they came into existence. Spring and Summer as brothers, close companions. Autumn a clever little red-headed imp who loved them all and took Winter as her best friend.

Their second names they chose for themselves. Summer picked Sam. Autumn could never decide and changed it every few years, but "Charlie" was her favorite. Winter chose Castiel, but Spring, a mischievous sprite named Dean dubbed him "Cas" and all the others followed along.

In any case, they had all four of them existed for a very, very long time. So much so that none of them remembered things like when exactly it was they first met or how many times the earth had spun since then. Autumn wasn't sure if it was when she was named Celeste or Cynthia the brothers adopted her as their sister. And Castiel could never tell you when exactly it was he fell in love with Dean. As far as he could remember, he'd always been in love with him.

He knew, though, when it was he realized it.

Winter that year had been very cold for the humans down in there little villages when Spring came out of nowhere. He danced across the earth with a boyish laugh, green flannel wrapped around his strong shoulders and an aster tucked behind his ear. Beneath his loving touch, flowers bloomed from their icy covering, green blossomed on the trees, and the scent of pollen filled the air.

Castiel didn't stop him, but he stood by and watched, a little amused as Spring tickled the underside of a blue rose like one would a pet until it arched up and spread its petals. When his back was pressed against an old oak tree, his body taught and chin uplifted as he watched the new leaves bud on the branches above, a smile curling his lips, Castiel finally spoke. "Dean. You're early."

His smile turned on him, and Dean cocked his head. "Spring is never too early, Cas." Pushing off the tree, he stepped right up to Winter. The iris green of his eyes intensified. A bird woke up and trilled. A buzz of bees found Dean and flitted around him happily, trailing in his wake like little lovesick puppies. And the ice under Castiel's feet melted away, replaced by verdant green.

"Dean," he scolded. "There are rules." A fuzzy little yellow-striped honeybee perched on Dean's knuckles and rubbed his little body on Spring's skin, searching for that perfect sweetness only he carried. When it was satisfied it buzzed off towards its hive to tell the others and Dean chuckled as it went.

"You're too tense. Have a little fun, Cas." Cas rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, but Spring just danced off. The blue roses he had cultivated before found their way into his hands, and he started weaving. Bees came and went as he worked, claiming his sweetness, or just following him with a merry buzz, and Castiel found it unbearably charming. He didn't speak again or protest as Spring warmed the land as he worked, but he watched as Spring's nimble fingers wove something beautiful.

When he was done, he grinned, stood, and the impossible crown he had created dropped atop the dark head of Winter. He was sure they looked almost amusing, perfect and blooming on his head of black, bright and alive and nearly matching the shade of his cold eyes. But Spring stood so close to him, and when his fingers left the perfect beauty he had created, they trailed through Castiel's hair. His palm landed on Castiel's cheek. And he was looking into Castiel's eyes when he smiled and said, _Perfect_.

And in all perfect seriousness, Winter blushed.

Youthful Spring danced away to the call of his bees and nurtured his light and life from Winter's cold earth while he stood by and said not a word. He watched him the entire time, following him around and standing by as he brought new life to the earth and wondered how he'd never realized before.

There was so much light inside of Dean, so much _life_. And he was kind and he was good, and he was _beautiful_ , and Castiel was in love.

Seasons moved on, came and went by. Summer made the sun shine bright and hot and played with puppies in the park. Autumn painted the leaves a dozen different colors and blew the skirts of girls with a cold gust and a cackle before swooping down and introducing herself. Winter came again, and when it was his turn he had a little fun. He brought with him snow days and frozen lakes the children slid across, and he sent the cold deep into the earth so Spring would have to take days and days working his warmth back into the ground. Days and days and days where he would be at Castiel's side, clucking at the depth of Castiel's reach, squawking at his favorite frosted rosebush, growling as he pressed his cheek into the frozen bark of the Old Oak.

"Makin' me work for it this year, ain't'cha?" he asked with a pretend scowl, his palm pressed to the ground as he sat cross-legged and looked up at Castiel. As always, bees hummed around him, buzzing to and fro, occasionally landing to rub against Dean and make the sweetest honey.

Castiel was jealous of them.

"Yes," he answered.

Dean's scowl broke, and he chuckled in disbelief. "You're not even gonna deny it?"

Castiel's head tilted to one side. "Why would I do that?"

Dean didn't answer. He looked down--to focus on what he was doing Castiel assumed--and smiled. For some reason he seemed almost shy when next he looked up at Castiel. There was a bee in the palm of his hand, and when he whispered to it, it rose in the air and flitted to Winter. For a moment it hovered in front of his eyes, and then it buzzed around him. Castiel followed it with a turn of his head until it found a perch on his opposite shoulder. "Her name is Baby," Dean told him with a smile. "As long as you treat her right, she'll be your friend now too."

The warm glow that Dean always seemed to give him when he was close expanded in Castiel's chest. He stared in awe at the little honeybee. "Hello, Baby."

All of Castiel's hard work freezing the ground was undone from one breath to the next when Dean's face lit up with his grin and life radiated from him.

And yet, Winter wasn't sorry. Not even a little with the sunshine of Dean's smile warming his heart.

The rest of the season he followed Spring in a daze with a honeybee on his shoulder.

 

The problem was, Winter thought himself, well, _cold_ and unattractive. The humans called him "Old Man," and how could that ever be alluring to a beautiful sprite of a Season with so much light inside of him it was almost painfully bright?

Seasons came and Seasons went, and Winter's love didn't diminish in the least. Whenever there was a reasonable excuse, he was at Dean's side, and he knew one could compare him to the bees, following him anywhere for a crumb of his sweetness, but Castiel didn't mind the similarities between them.

But how could he express himself? How could he earn Dean's affection when he was just a cold, dead gust of air and patch of ice and Dean was life?

This impossible equation was distracting his mind one day in late winter when he was following Spring across the earth. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize how close he'd gotten to Spring while Spring's hands moved in the air and the vines of two plants wove together to create something new.

"I have a theory, Cas."

Winter blinked out of his reverie only to realize he was just inches from Dean, though Dean faced the other way as he worked. "Hm?" His gaze drifted across short hair, a bit longer now than usual, the tips brushing his neck. A graceful neck with a freckle just above his collar. A neck Castiel longed to explore with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.

"If these two successfully cross-breed, something beautiful will be created."

With a lick of his lips, Castiel tore his eyes from that freckle to look at the two creeping vines at Dean's feet. All these years following Dean he had picked up on a few things here and there, and he knew these two didn't normally go together. But this was Spring talking, and if he thought they would... "I have no doubt."

Dean nodded his head and continued his work. But a moment later, he spoke again and this time the Season's tone had taken on a higher frequency, lighter and somehow mephistophelian in nature. He said, "Do you ever think about breeding, Cas?"

Winter regarded the two weaving vines. "Not outside of that which is in regards to you," he answered truthfully.

"Oh," Dean said, "So you think about breeding with me, huh?" He turned to face Castiel with a bit of a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes that brought a shiver of strange delight to Castiel's stomach.

The fact was, Spring was standing very close, close enough for Winter to see the pollen-like flecks of gold in his otherwise verdant eyes. This wasn't the first time he'd seen them, but it was so rare he was close enough that it momentarily took his breath away. It also took a second for the words he had spoken to sink in. Probably, it was Dean's eyes breaking from his to look down his face that snapped him out of it. "I-I do." It was the truth. Castiel often thought of following Spring as he brought life to the trees, made flowers bloom, and encouraged the breeding of two genuses.

Dean's grin widened, and he found Castiel's eyes again. "We should breed more often." His voice was clearly teasing, but it came out low, almost husky... The Season had a distinct feeling he was missing something, but still he liked the tone of that voice.

"I would like that..." he murmured slowly in reply, assuming that would be a safe answer.

A low chuckle spilled from Dean's perfect lips as he shook his head in what appeared to be mild amazement. "God, Cas, you..." he trailed off. "You--" he started and stopped again, staring into his eyes with that wide smile and... something else. A long moment passed, and then he shook his head and laughed and looked away, and whatever was on his face now was broken and sad and affectedly happy. "Yeah... Yeah, man." Scratching his hair he turned around and started back on his weaving. "We'll do that."

Eyeing the back of his head and the freckle above his collar Castiel wondered what he'd done wrong.

  
***

  
"He's strong and _brave_ and kind and generous, and he loves with his whole heart. The light inside of him is bright, almost painfully bright, and he's _beautiful_ \--" Castiel listed the many attributes of the Season he was in love with as Autumn stirred the trees and brought the winds. They were sitting on the edge of a lake, Castiel cross-legged as he had seen Dean sit, Charlie with her legs dangling over the side, her bare toes just barely grazing the water and creating gentle ripples in the reflective pool. Even in the gray light of the clouded day, the lake miraged the reds and yellows of the surrounding trees.

"Okay, okay, okay," Autumn said, laughing, her palms raised. "You're totally lost on the guy. I get it!"

"But Charlie, do you?"

The Season with the brightest hair and the most colorful eyes manipulated the full vibrancy of her aura. Cold branches creaked, the gusts blew, and Castiel had to brush some brown leaves from his coat. "Okay," he said. "You do."

Autumn tossed her scarlet hair. "He's perfect. That about sum it up?"

How could he explain? "He's not perfect. He makes mistakes, Charlie, but he tries so hard, and he cares so deeply, and..." he sighed, desolate. That familiar longing thrummed in his chest. "That's why I love him. But I'll never be good enough."

"Oh my God, Cas! Don't you dare." With a scowl on her sweet face, Charlie slapped his arm. A bunch of trees creaked on the other side of the lake with her flare of emotion. "You are _awesome_ , dude. Smart, wise, loyal, caring, _cool_ ," she snorted and grinned at her pun until Castiel didn't and then she rolled her eyes. " _And_ you're sexy enough I'm almost into your form."

"I'm... sexy?" Winter tilted his head and looked down at his body. He rarely manifested himself to the humans, but there was an occasional being throughout history who could see the Seasons. One or two of them had commented positively on his appearance, but Castiel had always assumed they were just trying to appease him because there was something they wanted. He'd never taken them seriously.

"Uh, yeah, Cas, you're sexy. And kinda cute because you clearly don't know it. The point is," she went on, "you're plenty 'good enough,' so don't let me hear any of that ever again."

The clouds rolled a little thicker with a sudden burst of cold, and Castiel looked at Charlie, breathless. "You think I have a chance?"

"Dean would be _lucky_ to have you." The Season reiterated, rocking back on the heels of her hands. "All you have to do is _talk_ to him."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but my 'social skills' are 'rusty.' When you say talk to him, do you mean tell him that I'm in love with him?"

"Aww," Autumn cooed. She squeezed his arm. "Well, maybe not right away. Show him you're interested first. Do something with him he likes. Oo," she snapped her fingers. "Bees! He likes bees, right? Do something with bees."

"Bees?" The tiny furry friends were usually near Dean. The way he cared for their hives, warming them through and through, and letting the little ones collect his sweetness for their honey, smiling at them as they did it, Castiel knew he loved them.

And ever since Dean sent Baby to him, the others had paid him more attention, buzzing around his head and alighting in his hair.

Yes, yes, this could work! Charlie thought he was sexy. Dean loved bees. Winter smiled, hopeful, and started putting a plan together.

 

The three-quarters disc of the setting sun on the horizon on this side of the earth cast the field in golden honey light. Spring had been working on the grass and the earth and feeding the tiny insects when Castiel came unto him.

With all the work that had to be done in the hive, the bees had taken some convincing, but Castiel had talked with them. In the end, their love for Spring had won them over and granted him this favor, so that when he came to Dean, completely without cloth or cover, the bees came with him, surrounded him, covered him to some extent.

If he trusted Autumn, which he did, and he really was "sexy," plus surrounded by Dean's favorite creatures, in this way, Winter hoped he would be enticing.

"Heya, Cas, look at this little blossom," Dean murmured as he sensed Castiel's presense nearby but didn't yet turn to see him standing there. The first bee Dean had introduced him to perched in Castiel's hair. "She's trying to bloom already," he chuckled, pleased.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied. "She is of the same genus you created last year for endurance and fortitude."

"Yeah," Dean said, sounding surprised. "You remember tha--?" he had turned his head as he asked the question and stopped short. The verdant green of his eyes intensified, and Dean rose abruptly to his feet. For a moment he followed the patterns of the bees up and down before landing on Baby perched in his dark tresses. A cherry-blossom stroke of color brushed across his cheeks.

"The bees--they like me now," Castiel murmured proudly. Pleasure warmed Castiel's cold core, and he smiled. This was working! Dean was intrigued by what he saw, and soon he would say something to prove--

Spring laughed, a bright, happy sound full of life. "I see the bees have really warmed up to you."

Okay... that wasn't what Castiel was _expecting_....

But then Dean started walking towards him, and Castiel straightened his shoulders. Okay, this was something, wasn't it? Castiel half lifted his hands, but then Dean squeezed his arm, an intensity in his eyes. "I told ya they'd like you."

"Well... yes. You did..." He trailed off. Dean raised his hand and took Baby from his hair, gave him a tight smile, and then walked right past him. In helpless dismay Castiel turned around and watched him go, striding across the field and disappearing in the forest beyond.

He didn't glance back once.


	2. Chapter 2

With a dramatic cry of freedom, an ice banshee screached its way through a hollow tree, overly pleased to be released so early. It was October only, late October when the trees should be bright and beautiful instead of the brown they were, and humans would be celebrating the harvest rather than shivering at home and trying to appease the demons of All Hallows' Eve.

But Winter couldn't seem to help himself, and snow drifted cold and unaffected from the dark clouds. One of the few remaining flowers of spring held wrapped in Winter's fingers, green and lavender and strong. With veiny hands and strong fingers he plucked the delicate petals from the bud one at a time, watching them shrivel at they drifted to the ground. With what was left he turned blue and frozen, and when he dropped it, watched it break apart in shattered pieces.

Was it childish to be so dismayed? Probably. He had been rejected, he was sure of it, despite Autumn's argument to the contrary. It wasn't really a surprise his attraction was one-sided. He understood, and he would shake himself out of his depression by spring. But in the meantime, Winter came hard, came cold, came early. Icy winds lanced through skirts and scarves. Snow covered fields. Trees glistened in crystal blue suspended animation.

It was okay. He understood. If Spring was still okay with his being near, then he would take that and be happy enough.

 

"Sam, what am I gonna do?" Dean's knees curled to him, his arms wrapped around them. Sam was sporting a vibrant yellow shirt as hot as sunlight, and were Spring less dismal, he would have teased his brother for it. The icy chill of Winter was beating across the earth, harsh and earlier than usual, and Spring and Summer stayed tucked in the little house Sam had built from the ground up eons ago. He was the only Season with an actual house. Autumn had an apartment she took her girlfriends too, but Dean preferred the open fields or shaded groves, with his bees where he could see the stars, until it got too cold, and then he usually wound up here.

Time had moved on and his brother had moved the house from one place to another, fixing, rebuilding, adding on when necessary, but always within sight of a park where the children played with their pets. A pack of pooches of all shapes and sizes wagged their tails or lay sprawled across one another under the bay window or by the table where Dean sat, woofing for head-pats and belly-rubs or getting underfoot while Summer was baking pound cake and attempting to sweeten very out-of-season strawberries on the stove with sugar for his favorite dessert.

A bit of red stained his lips as he tasted the warm mixture and winced, glanced at the bag of sugar sitting open and already lighter than he would like, and sighed. Another spoonful went in.

Letting his strawberries bubble, Sam placed his palms on the counter and frowned at his brother who was staring out the window as the snow drifted down and piled up. For a long, long time Spring and Winter had had a special bond, unique, deep, and powerful. Winter would do anything for all of them, but when Spring was around, he had eyes only for him. Like one of Dean's bees he trailed behind him, and he hung on to every word he spoke like they would reveal all the secrets of heaven and earth. Sam had known for a long time Cas was in love with Dean. He suspected Dean had felt the same way, nearly just as long, but it was only a while ago Dean had confirmed it to him.

"What do you want to do, Dean?" he asked, finally.

The perpetually youthful Spring squeezed his arms where they looped around his knees. A hand dropped the head of Bones and trailed idly through his fur. The dog's big brown eyes were old, but happy. Sam had had him for just about forever, his favorite pup.

Dean curled in on himself further. "I dunno, Sam."

 _Hm_ , Sam murmured, and stirred his berries. The time over the stove blinked from twenty four to twenty three minutes remaining, and the soft buttery scent of the cake blossomed a little more around the open space.

"You're in love with him, right?" Cas had done something, frozen a lake for the kids to race across or something some winter a long time ago, and Dean admitted that was the point he realized the feelings he had. Since then Dean had flirted with Castiel a few times, but Castiel had never really responded. Sam was pretty sure it just went over Cas' head, but Dean was always more of an actions guy then a words guy so he thought he was being obvious. The problem was, Castiel so rarely spent time with humans he just didn't understand flirtations.

And then there was the fiasco last spring when Castiel showed up inexplicably naked and surrounded by bees, Baby perched atop his head as if leading the charge.

Which was as much information as Sam had let his brother share before trying hard to wipe the image from his mind forever.

Honestly, he didn't know what to make of that himself, besides oddball Cas being oddball Cas, but Dean was confused as hell by it all. Was Cas coming on to him? Or was he just showing off the fact that Dean's bees had added a place for Castiel in their tiny hearts? Whatever Cas had been doing, Dean didn't know how he should have reacted to it beyond what he did, and Sam was pretty sure that strange event was part of the reason Dean was so dismayed now.

"Yeah," his brother answered. "You know I do."

Sam did know that. His eyes followed Dean's to the blizzard outside. He shivered. He might have to forgo his run tomorrow. His lips punched out in a pout, and he sighed, clicking off the stove.

"Dean, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you should talk to him. It's the only way you can find out how he really feels."

The hand patting Bones stilled and retreated. Dean pulled his knees a little closer and didn't answer. Still, he ate the strawberries and pound cake when Sam slid the plate in front of him, and Sam figured that was a good sign.

  
***

  
It was a long, long time before Spring came again, and the eyes of Winter were tense with fear when he did. The friendship he had maintained with his fellow Season since the beginning of everything meant more to him than all the snowflakes that he had ever caused to fall.

So many. So much.

And yes, though the rejection he thought he had received made the sight of hay-colored hair, rosy lips, and grassy eyes claw at the barely sealed scar of his heart, it also put air in his lungs and made him feel alive again like he hadn't since Spring walked away from him last year.

The problem was, he didn't know what to expect from his Dean. Or, not his Dean. Would Castiel's failed attempt at wooing the sprite-like Season cause him to steer clear of him? Would he nurture spring from the ice far across the earth and away from him?

The dryness of Castiel's mouth had him moistening his lips nervously as he watched Dean come closer. The usually excitable Season seemed reserved, stepping with purpose and surveying the icy valley that stretched up to the ice-capped mountains with their snow-shrowded trees. His warm breath fogged the air in front of him as he exhaled every time his foot sank twelve inches through the soft white fluff.

About a yard away he stopped, his hands on his slender hips. He had yet to meet Castiel's eyes. Castiel swallowed his nervousness and looked anxiously at the profile of the creature he so adored. "Hello, Dean."

Perfect green, brilliant in the light from the broken clouds and their crystal surroundings, punctuated by the black point of their pupils looked over at him. And then away again. "Damnit, Cas." Winter shuffled his feet in the snow, letting the glimmer of the reflected sun in the ice burn his eyes.

"I take an extra couple of months off and what do you do?" With a blink, Castiel looked up in time to see his fingers flit at the snow-covered... well, everything. "You better not have killed my rosebush." A small twitch of his lips broke into a sardonic smile, and airy hope expanded like frozen water in Castiel's chest.

"I would never," he replied. As cold as he made anything and everything, Dean's rosebushes never got more than a slight frost. He just couldn't bring himself to freeze the bush from which Dean had made him a crown, especially not when he had realized his love from those woven stalks and blue blossoms.

Dean's smile widened. "Good. 'Cause you know I'd kick your ass otherwise."

Castiel nodded somberly. "Don't worry. My ass will not need kicking this winter."

Dean snorted. "Awesome." His gaze drifted across the landscape. His smile fell a little, and he shifted in the already-melting ice. Once or twice his eyes met Castiel's in quick, darting glances, and then he shook his head slightly and muttered, "Well, I guess I better get started."

The snowstorm of nerves flew again. He couldn't help the frown. "I-I guess I'll go..." Castiel said hesitantly.

Something flashed across Dean's face, quick, but strong enough Castiel registered hurt and confusion. His eyes were a little sadder when they looked at him. "You're not gonna stay?"

"Is... I..." Castiel stuttered slightly. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," his Dean answered, the frown deepening. "I, uh..." He scratched the side of his head. "I want you to."

The hope in Castiel's chest melted into happiness and utter relief. His shoulders even straightened, a little. "Then I will," he said with a smile.

"Cas..." Dean trailed off. His teeth bit into his lip, and he shuffled a half-step forward. "Um, do you..." Again, he stopped. His pinched gaze studied Winter's face. And then a puff of frosted air expelled from his lips. "Nevermind. Now, I suppose I'll start on the trees. Then I'll bring up some flowers, and I need to find my bees..." he muttered, shambling off.

In his wake was a trail of slushy ice and a happy Season close behind.

 

Spring worked his essence and light, and the many layers of cold wrapped around the north globe slowly, so slowly, started to melt. Spring flowers puckered up out of the warming dirt, gentle breezes brought warm southern air and stirred the dandelion fluff from their stalks. And Dean sashayed across the earth, his bowlegs giving his hips an alluring sway Castiel guiltily found himself watching from time to time as he trailed ever just behind.

The sun was high in the sky one day soon after Spring finally came, but there was still a chill in the air, and the lazy clouds drifting, clustered here and there occasionally shaded the sun's warmth.

A passion flower vine was wound around Dean's left arm, disappearing under his rolled sleeve and poking out under his collar, just curling around his neck before ending in a bursting lavender flower. That was it. It did not feed into a larger vine that went into the earth, it just clung to Dean alone, and yet still it lived and grew, tiny clinging vinelets curled against his skin as if as in love with him as the bees. Or as Winter.

They were in Dean's favorite place, a sort of wild, secret garden only he and the other Seasons knew about. His rosebushes bobbed gently in the breeze on one side, bright, varied buds as yet unfurled on their stems. Vines and overlaying flowers crawled across the ground and around various breeds of tree, small yellow-green leaves budding on the tips of their twigs. From this little grove half a dozen bee hives or so buzzed and dripped with honey. And above it all, towering high and proud stood the Great Oak, a tsunami of roots undulating from its base before finally sinking into the earth.

It was a stunningly beautiful place that had started feeling like home to Cas a long time ago.

"Hey, Cas," Dean murmured, fingers brushing through the buds of his roses, somehow avoiding every thorn.

"Yes, Dean?"

The drifting hand stilled, and then plucked a blue bud. "Remember that crown I made you with these?"

Castiel _almost_ laughed. He couldn't stop the smile, though. "Very well."

"Well, you froze everything so good this time the flowers don't wanna blossom yet. So I made you a tiara instead." His shifting hands in front of him stopped moving, and he slowly turned around. Between his fingertips he gently held a circlet of green stalks and carefully upwards-aimed thorns with soft, sapphire teardrop flowers spaced around it.

Castiel's breath stopped.

Since that first majestic crown Spring had used to win him over that day, Castiel didn't even know how many decades ago, he had never received another. "For me?" he whispered, his eyes owlishly wide.

Dean ducked his head. "Yeah..." He crossed the small space and gently set the coronet atop his dark head. And like the first time, his fingers drifted through Castiel's hair. And like the first time, his palm warmed Castiel's cool cheek. His pink lips parted, and he whispered, "Perfect."

He smiled a little, and Castiel leaned into his touch. "Dean. Thank you."

A shoulder lifted in half a shrug, and Dean's hand slipped away. "Sure, Cas." For a moment he stared at Castiel. A pink tongue moistened plush lips. And then abruptly he turned away and moved off toward the little grove. His palm pressed into the bark of one without a hive, and slowly its branches stood a little straighter, and yellow strings of pollen unfurled from their tips.

Baby buzzed around Castiel's head, probably attracted to the bright blue of the flowers, but when Castiel lifted a hand she came to rest on his palm.

"Cas?" Dean murmured, his back to Castiel, his head down. "What do you think of me?"

A frown tugged at Castiel's lips as he wached Baby wobble as she skittered across his knuckles.

She was getting old. Older than any bee had any right to be, but she was always Spring's favorite and as such lived especially long. She had seen kingdoms rise and fall, queens die and new ones be born. She was a good drone. A good bee.

With a flutter of her wings she took off towards the new flowers of the vines Dean had cultivated and Castiel let her go.

What a question was that to ask of Castiel? He blinked up at him. "I think you're an amazing Season. The life you give is... beautiful. Don't tell Autumn I said so, but you're the best of us."

Dean's head fell a little.

He turned to face Castiel and press his back to the tree, his palms behind his backside. For once there was no smile on his face. "A good Season?" Castiel didn't like the tone of that at all, and he stepped forward instinctively.

"The best," he corrected. "You're the best of us, Dean."

"Don't say that." His face turned hard and dark, and he shook his head. "You're always talking yourself down, Cas. You're amazing, you know that right?"

Sweet affection licked his insides, but he shook his head. "Amazing? I'm not amazing, Dean. You bring life and light to everything, and all I do is destroy. _You're_ amazing."

"Cas," Dean sighed. Expressions moved across his face, from annoyance, to weariness, to determination. "Plants _need_ cold, you know that right? Fruit would grow small and tart or wouldn't grow at all without days and days of cold and ice. Without _you_. Flowers wouldn't bloom, and humans wouldn't get to rest--and probably wouldn't rest the earth so crops can seed again in Spring--if you didn't bring your cold and crystal ice."

Winter tilted his head, surprise strong, pulsing right alongside pleasure, hot and heady. Castiel... helped? "I-I did not know."

With another sigh Dean looked at him with an annoyed sort of exasperation. "Get over here."

"Over... there?" He made a slight gesture at Dean.

"Yeah, Cas, come on," he jerked his head and raised his eyebrows, and Castiel couldn't deny him. About twelve inches away he stopped, figuring he was close enough. But then, "Come on," Dean said. "Closer."

Castiel tilted his head and crossed six inches.

"Closer," Dean breathed.

Castiel crossed two.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Dean reached out a hand. His fingers tugged Castiel's shirt, and Castiel came to him, willing, the soft pull enough to lead him wherever Dean wanted. He stopped right up against Dean's chest, with only the space of his hand between their bodies, curled in Castiel's clothing, between them.

The warmth of Spring's body was a sharp contrast to the ever low-running temperature of Winter's skin, and it caused a small shiver between his shoulderblades. Again, he was close enough to see the pollen gold in Dean's bright green eyes. The pupils in their depths widened and dilated as Castiel watched, and desire, impossibly strong pulsed in his chest, in his lips, his fingertips.

The clouds thickened above, blocking the merry yellow sun Spring had found and grew ever grayer.

Castiel could see the movement of Dean's throat as he swallowed.

Dean's other hand curled around Castiel's wrist, and he broke his trance to look down. "Feel this," Dean breathed. He lifted Castiel's hand, following it as he did, and pressed it to the oak behind him. "Do you feel the life in this, Cas? Listen closely." Dean's eyes flashed green, his fingers curled closer around Castiel's wrist, and suddenly there was an awareness Castiel didn't have before.

A thrumming of life, a low hum under his palm, rough bark pressed to his skin, and he _felt_ it. Felt the oak's existence, alive and _vibrating_. From the tips of its roots so very far in the earth, through the wood of its core and out through small yellow leaves growing anew on the ends of its branches. And it was old, older than it looked, Seasons seen and passed, each with its purpose, each with its perfect system, each coming and going and giving the tree just what it needed, everything it needed, to keep growing, growing tall, wide, high, old. So old. So very--

Castiel gasped and opened his eyes, never knowing he'd even shut them. He found Dean in front of him, a soft smile on his face.

"I felt it," Winter said. "I felt it," Winter repeated. It's... alive, it's amazing. Dean, the life force, it's so incredible, how do you--" he stuttered, beyond lost in awe. "And we all serve a purpose, Dean, all four Seasons. Dean, you're... This is so--You feel this all the time? It's _beautiful_. I can't believe--You..." He trailed off, struck dumb by the experience he just had and the soft smile growing bigger with every dull half-uttered sentence he made. His eyes were so warm and soft, and he was looking at him with something... something that dissipated all thought. Left him wordless and confused with a buzzing in his chest. And then his eyes were getting closer and the warm embrace of Spring curled against Winter, fingers sliding through his hair and nudging the weight of the woven coronet on his head as soft lips pressed into his.

A rush of something that was too much of everything to describe surged from his chest to his head to his fingertips to his feet and back again, leaving Castiel dizzy. Spring was... he was...

Perfect lips moved against his, tender and unbelievably warm. The tiniest brush of a thumb along his hairline, what normally would have been nothing were it anything, anybody, else, was shocking and electrifying.

Wind stirred the leaves above making a _whoosh_. Winter's coat snapped in the sudden cold gust, and with a moan wrenched from his throat he snapped out of his stunned motionlessness. His fingers closed around the back of Dean's neck, and he pushed him into the tree and kissed him back.

Dean grunted, but it was as pleased at is was surprised, and then he was kissing him right back, harder and more urgent. Dean. His Dean. And Dean's hand in his hair tightened, pulling him in.

Time stopped and stretched on forever and moved way too quickly as Castiel and Dean tugged at one another with need. So many years. So, so many years Castiel was in love with this creature. It was beyond his belief Spring kissed him, Spring parted his lips for him, Spring drew him in and held him close, his fingers a dance of pressure across his scalp.

The wet feel of his lips beneath Castiel's was as shocking as it was perfect, and he pressed him to the tree and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him with all of the love, admiration, and _adoration_ he had been nurturing for years.

It was everything, it was _everything_.

Flurries of crystallized ice floated from the spread of clouds above them, and at their first cool touch, they parted, breathless and staring into each other's eyes.

A beautiful rose-colored flush over Dean's cheekbones gave Castiel something to brush his thumb across in awe.

"Dean..." The air in his lungs, his throat, lips, and tongue formed the word as the only possible thing he could say. The only thing that mattered.

His Dean smiled a shy smile, his lips even more red than usual from Castiel's kissing him. It made his desire burn brighter, made him want to lean back in and kiss up against the tree trunk until night came and seasons passed and years fell away.

"So, uh, that happened," Dean said, voice low and husky. Lips tempting.

"You kissed me," Castiel breathed.

"You kissed me back," Dean challenged, eyes sharp and green. The growing vine around the arm of Spring that clung to Castiel's neck was extending onto Castiel. He could feel it creeping around his neck, little clingers curling against his skin and holding him close.

"Is... Is that okay?" The way Dean had moaned and pulled him in he thought it was, but--

"H-Hell yes. I've been kind of waiting for you to do that for decades."

Disbelief--happy disbelief, but disbelief--made a sound in Castiel's throat. He leaned forward, needing to be closer, and nuzzled against Dean's cheek. "You have?"

"Cas..." The tickle of a tiny clinging vinelet draped itself over Castiel's collar bone. Dean kissed against Castiel's cheek and then hid his face in the crook of his neck. "Yeah, Cas--I... Um, what would you say if... I told you... I'mkindofinlovewithyou." The words came out in a rush but Castiel heard them all.

Snowflakes drifted through the sparce branches of the tree above and muted all sounds.

Or maybe everything just seemed so silent because the only thing that existed in Castiel's word just then was the Season curled against him and pressing shy kisses over his neck. His affection wasn't one-sided. Dean... Dean loved him? "What--What about the field? And the bees? You walked away..."

A breath huffed against his neck. "What did you expect me to do? Take you right there? I didn't even know what the hell you were doing--actually, I thought you were showing off your newfound kinship with the bees!"

"I was trying to be appealing to you."

Dean laughed, his face still hidden, maybe even more so. "You don't have to try, Cas. I-um. Like I said, I love you. I love who are you, and that translates to how you look." He groaned, hiding his eyes against Castiel's shoulder. "I _love_ how you look. Probably too much."

The quietness of Castiel's thoughts were suddenly more of a whirlwhind, his heart a drumbeat of thunder. How was this possible? Everything, the only thing he had ever wanted, his. _His_. His Dean.

"Please say something," Spring whispered, and like a shard of ice the fear in his voice pierced Castiel's heart. Did he not know? Was it possible his great love wasn't known to the creature in his arms?

"Dean. My Dean. My Spring." With a kiss against his forehead at each endearment, Castiel pushed his love back against the tree so he could see him when he spoke. The soft honey hair, speckled with white. His blushing cheeks and perfect lips and the eyes he could stare into for an eternity. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I think I've loved you forever."

The sweet face of his Spring lit up with unexpected joy. "Yeah?"

"Oh, Dean." Castiel kissed his lips. "Yes." With a turn of his head he kissed him again, but when he began to pull back Dean tugged him in again, and he melted against warm lips. All sense of time was lost as Winter kissed Spring.

Bees buzzed and snow fell. A coronet of blue roses sat atop the dark head of Winter. A passion flower spread its petals at the base of his throat while white snow spotted Spring's hair. Spring, against a tree in a grove with Winter crowding close.

Love was in the air , and all was right with the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this cute personification of seasons ^.^
> 
> If you did, drop me a comment and let me love you forever <3


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